


Interlude.

by uncaringerinn



Series: To Fell the Would-Be King [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncaringerinn/pseuds/uncaringerinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She remembers, and the memories are sour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude.

As she sits idly in the small coffee shop; she gazes out the window, the book in front of her long forgotten. She remembers the night Bae came for her, her savior, brave knight in shining armor. She smiles wryly, because she recalls when she thought _he_ was her hero.

 

 

It was dark when the boy with the busted lip slipped into her damp cell. His eyes were feverish and he held a look that indicated that he was not entirely sure of what he was doing.

He pulled her by the wrist out from under her white quilt; his voice frantic, "C'mon, we don't have much time. They're out on a raid, but we can get out of here."

She tried to tug away from him and whispered, "Don't, he'll be angry. I don't like it when he's angry, he's mean."

"You have to come with me. You don't belong here. I can _save_ you!" He implored; yanking her toward the door.

She narrowed her eyes, "You sound like _him_. I'm tired of boys trying to save me."

He huffed; it was a sound of pure indignant and frustrated rage, "Do you want to die here, Wendy Moira Angela Darling? Or do you want to live?"

She stared openly at him as he worried his busted lip between nervous teeth; the wound reopened and he winced as the blood trickled down his chin, "O-okay. He won't catch us?"

The boy grinned and it was like sunlight; she thought she might cry it was so beautiful, "Not if we hurry!" And he pulled her so hard she was tripping in effort to keep up with him.

 

 

Wendy glances back down at her forgotten book, a romance novel with a predictable storyline and cheesy characters, and frowns. She knows she wanted that once, a boy who loved her and would do anything to make her happy, but she doesn't want it anymore. The idea of it repulses her and she snaps the book closed. Her eyes skirt back to the window and she watches as sunlight filters in through the leaves of the tree across the street.

 

She remembered how Bae clutched her hand as they rode across the sea; how the pirate's eyes wandered over her tattered form. He knew.

Knew that she was soiled, rotten. Knew that Peter Pan was the one that ruined her.

"Peter's very fond of his possessions." Hook said, "Especially the girls."

"He can't get me now." It was a hushed, almost silent whisper and she gripped Bae's hand fiercely.

Hook laughed; but it held no humor, "When he finds you, and he will, you'll wish you'd never left that miserable hell of an island, girl."

"If my escape is so futile, then why are you helping me?" She spat; hair tangling about her face in the wind.

"A long time ago, Pan took something that belonged to me." He smirked as he dragged the side of his hook down her flushed cheek, the metal cool against her heated skin, "And I'm always more than happy to return the favor, dear."

Wendy pulled away and sneered, "If he finds me then he'll find you too."

"Ah, yes, but he won't kill me."

 

 

She stands from the small table and shoves her book into her bag. She can feel her heart hammer against her ribs and she thinks she might be sick. The memories only ever come at night in the form of haunting nightmares. She would wake; sticky with sweat and stomach roiling in revulsion. She'd wake Bae with shaky hands and beg him to hold her. Anything. Anything to make _him_ go away.

But she'd never been out in the open before, where everyone can she what terrible mess she is. She's a walking corpse; vacant except for the growing graveyard of anger and hatred that she nourishes inside the hollow of her chest.

Her hands are clammy as she grips the strap of her bag and rushes out the café door. It's mid-summer and there's a slight warm breeze blowing, but it does nothing to calm her nerves. She's going to be sick; can feel the bile surging up her throat and she runs to an empty alley to vomit.

Bae finds her crumpled to the ground; tears streaking down her cheeks. He pulls the hair from her face and shushes her as he cradles her body against his. Telling her that everything's okay, she's safe, and that nothing will ever hurt her again.

They're the same things he whispers to her after the dreams, but they hold no comfort now, no sense of warmth or safety. It's been years, and _he_ is still there; dragging his teeth across her neck, bruising her hips with angry hands, promising that she'll always be _his_.

Something is wrong, and Wendy sobs harder.


End file.
